


like a satellite (i’m in orbit all the way around you)

by TooManyGaysTooLittleTime



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Lesbians in Space, Minor Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano, On Hiatus, To Be Edited, many genderqueer characters, rewrite of the prequel trilogy from the phantom menace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24772525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime
Summary: Sabé has always been there for Padmé when nobody else was, but their bond will be tested during the Clone Wars.currently on hiatus - will be picked up & edited at some point!! there will be longer chapters and bonus content when that happens. until then, thanks for your support!
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Padmé Amidala/Sabé
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Sabé

**Author's Note:**

> title from satellite by lena which i couldn’t get out of my head during the writing of this fic
> 
> yes it’s another multi-chapter with great ambitions

She drapes Padmé’s veil across her head, artfully arranging it so that it pulls away from her face yet conceals her hair. Her queen sighs gently, her eyes closed, as Sabé leans in to paint her lips with the red paint.

A hand on Padmé’s chin gently tilts her face upwards, Sabé’s grip carefully firm to hold it in place. The lip paint is a matter of tradition and getting it right is a matter of utmost importance. Willing away the nervousness that makes her hands shake, Sabé draws the line down the centre of Padmé’s bottom lip. 

She widens the line cautiously, using thin strokes. When she has finished, she leans back and examines her handiwork. 

Padmé’s upper lip is reddened by the paint, perfectly symmetrical, and her bottom lip is bisected by a straight red line. 

“It is done, my queen,” Sabé says, breaking the serene silence that had settled upon them with the advent of the makeup’s application.

Padmé’s painted eyelids disappear as she opens her eyes. Rich brown irises stare back at Sabé from a face painted white. “Thank you, Sabé,” she says, her hands held in her lap instead of on her face or headdress.

“It is no issue, my queen,” Sabé says. She extends a hand clad in dark velvet gloves to Padmé’s white-laced one. Tiny jewels in the lace catch the light and glimmer as Padmé places her hand in Sabé’s.

It is not necessarily needed for Sabé to escort Padmé to the ceremony — the Nabootean royal guards are well-trained and as experienced as the handmaidens in matters such as this. Sabé knows why she wishes for it to continue, yet she doubts if Padmé feels the same way about it as her.

As they pass the guards set up around the palace, they drop into bows for the queen. If Padmé notices that one of them does not bow, though, Sabé cannot tell.

Inside her robe, strapped to her hip, is a blaster and pressed up against her chest is a small pistol. Padmé’s own dress conceals a slim vibroblade in the bodice and her skirts drape over a pistol in a thigh holster. It would be easy for Sabé to reach into the fabric to withdraw either gun and fire it at the guard, but she decides not to. This day is meant to be a celebration of peace, after all, and not a day for war — especially not over a tradition considered outdated.

Sabé leads Padmé down the steps of the front of the palace behind her, her fingers feeling under the lace to touch Padmé’s bare palm. She opens the door to a palanquin for Padmé, and, following behind, shuts the door to enclose them.

It is open-topped and pulled by a team of Naabatchia, their forms a dark blur upon the road. While Padmé waves to the crowds, Sabé keeps her eye trained on any who might mean her queen harm. Her hand is upon the blaster at her hip as they ride, ready to be quickly pulled out if need be.

The Naabatchia slow as they approach the Naboo senatorial building. They circle to give the crowd a glance at their queen before halting in front of the steps of the senatorial building.

Sabé pushes at the handle to open the door, then steps out and gives a steadying hand back to Padmé as she exits. A dazzling smile is tossed Sabé’s way as her queen drops her hand and ascends the steps alone, a resplendent vision in white.

Sabé wonders if Padmé knows the reason behind her coming with Padmé for the celebration. If Padmé knows the meaning behind all the touches that Sabé has given her under an innocent guise. If Padmé knows that every smile she gives does funny things to Sabé’s heart.

Padmé pauses at the top of the steps and turns to face the crowd. She lifts her hands to regale the air as she starts to speak, her voice amplified by practised projection.

Sabé notices Padmé’s lips move, but she is not focused upon the words that she speaks: instead, her attention is captured by the scarlet red paint upon her lips, applied by Sabé’s own hand but a few moments ago. She wonders how the paint would taste upon her own lips.

Sabé blinks away her fantasies as the lines of Gungans file out of the senatorial building. Naboo’s Senator approaches to hand Padmé a medal. Lace-covered hands grasp the ribbon and place it around the neck of the first awaiting Gungan, Jar Jar Binks. Sabé snorts a little at the idea of Binks being a war hero of any kind: she has never seen him display any notably positive qualities of any sort. However, Padmé regales the crowd with tales of how Jar Jar Binks single-handedly saved Naboo from the Trade Federation, and soon they are cheering for him as if he were Jedi Master Yoda itself.

The next recipient of a medal is so unassuming that Sabé does not immediately pick up on them. A small child, dressed in Tatooine garb, who could not have been more than ten years upon the galaxy, approaches Padmé proudly, their chest puffed up with pride. 

Padmé smiles broadly as she leans down to place the medal given over their shoulders. The ribbon is too long for them, and so the medal hangs down to their stomach. Sabé suppresses a smile at the sight of the small child, saviour of Naboo, failing to wear their medal upon their chest. It is almost charmingly innocent, in a way, and Sabé sees a little of why Padmé had grown so attached to them.

Her queen faces the crowd and lifts her hands into the air to applaud the saviours of Naboo. Eagerly and with raucous cries, they join her, a surge of them spilling towards the steps to congratulate the Gungans, the Jedi, anyone they can find. Sabé steps aside to allow for them to flow through, but when she looks back up at the steps, Padmé’s back is turned to her and she is ascending the steps, moving away from her people and Sabé. 


	2. Padmé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabé and Padmé enjoy a free moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the response to the first chapter was quite frankly astounding! thank you!!

Sunlight streams onto Sabé’s face, illuminating her in golden light. She leans her head back against the bench, closing her eyes in order to stare into the sky.

Padmé takes the opportunity to observe her, pressing her hands behind her back to resist the urge to touch and to cradle. A companionable silence falls over them, occasionally punctuated by the chirp of birdsong and a rustle of skirts as Padmé gathers the tulle into her hands. 

Cracking open an eye, Sabé’s head lolls to face Padmé. Her lips, pale pink without any makeup upon them, part softly before she asks, “What do you suppose will happen to us when you are no longer the Queen?”

Padmé resists the urge building inside her to press her own lips to Sabé’s and thus remove the question from the world. Sabé’s words, however, twist and lock into place around Padmé’s heart, a bitter reminder of how temporary this moment together is. 

Truthfully, Padmé knows that Sabé will no longer be with her after her tenure as Queen is over. The woman lounging beside her has nothing tying her to Padmé except for her job as the queen’s protector: when Padmé is no longer on the throne, she will not be necessary, and Sabé will become merely a footnote in the list of queens that have come before and will come after Padmé.

As much as she knows the truth, though, she cannot bring herself to tell Sabé. She does not want the reality of their precarious situation to intrude on one of their few quiet moments: she cherishes the sound of the birds in the trees singing and the company of Sabé dearly, and wishes for nothing more in this world. 

Besides, Padmé is sure that Sabé is aware of the future for them: since the day that Padmé knelt before the Naboo people and took the oath of queenship, since the day that Sabé bowed in front of her and promised to serve and protect her as long as she reigned, they have been living on borrowed time. 

Rather than voice any of the thoughts swirling in her head, however, Padmé shrugs and plays it off as a child would. “I don’t know.”

A lie, of course, but Sabé is so precious to her that she would not dare see her shattered to pieces. She would not dare be the cause of it, either.

Doubt rises in Sabé’s eyes, which are not merely dark brown, but a swirling maelstrom of dark and light and gold when Padmé stares into them, yet she bites back the remark that she was about to make and shrugs instead. The shrug might be considered light and playful, the mannerism of a child, were Padmé not well aware that Sabé had stepped in front of a loaded gun for her, that Sabé had negotiated on behalf of Naboo in her place. That Sabé was the second queen of Naboo in all but name.

“Well, I suppose we’ll find out, anyways.” Sabé clenches her eyes shut as she turns her head to directly face the sun above her, her skin bleaching pure white with the beam of light upon her.

Padmé reaches out to lightly brush the back of Sabé’s head, the side of her finger barely touching the hair beneath. The skin of her scalp feels warm and sweaty, yet Padmé finds that she does not mind the feel of it. “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you keep doing that, you know,” she reprimands Sabé, the words gentle and smooth as honey. Sabé’s eyes remain shut as she responds, “I’m young, I’ll live.”

Yes, Padmé thinks as she gazes at Sabé, pushing herself up to lean back more comfortably against the bench. They are all so young to be in such danger. And it has never been a guarantee that they will live: their lives have been priced, cut down and marked up on occasion, from the time that they had sworn their oaths.

“You think too much.” Sabé states, struggling to sit up in the smooth material of the dress she wears. She is clothed in blue, a purer blue than the sky above, lighter and more innocent.

“What should I be doing rather than thinking?” Padmé counters, enjoying falling back into the easy remarks that belong to good friends, ribbing each other in kindness.

Sabé’s lip twists as she thinks. “Oh, I know,” she smiles, and seizes Padmé’s hand by the wrist to pull her upright. Her fingers are damp from sweat and warm against the skin of Padmé’s wrist. Laughter bubbles out from between her lips as she tugs Padmé towards the fountain in the centre of the gardens by her arm. 

Padmé smiles despite herself as she realises what Sabé’s plan is. “I’ll find you first this time,” she promises, the shape of the fountain rising above the neatly trimmed hedges like a trophy to be won.

Sabé turns to her, the smirk on her face proud and knowing. “We’ll see about that.”

Without further preamble, she drops Padmé’s hand, the loss of contact a discomfort, and runs towards the maze’s entrance, the train of her blue gown rippling behind her like the tide upon ocean-planets, ever-shifting and ever-changing.

Padmé hides a smile and, after counting several parsecs in her head, follows Sabé’s trail into the maze. The smile that Sabé’s antics have managed to place on her face hurts the corners of her mouth and cheeks as she runs in after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
